Raw Power Page 15

  “Sounds like Dad,” she murmured.

  The flight attendant had come back with their drinks, placing them on the table before disappearing off down the front of the plane again.

  Callie picked up her glass and took a long, deep sip. Then she lowered it and looked at him from over the rim.

  He’d grabbed the tumbler full of bourbon and had taken a swallow, the liquid burning on the way down, to sit warmly in his gut. But it didn’t burn nearly as hot as the flame he saw flickering in her eyes.

  It was familiar, that flame. He’d seen it on the dance floor in the club, and when she’d kissed him in her apartment. And again, when she’d nipped his bottom lip in the limo a couple of hours ago.

  Hot and blue and all for him.

  Desire kicked at him, harder this time, his cock beginning to press uncomfortably against his zipper. Fuck’s sake, did she know what looking at him like that was doing to him? He’d thought that given who she was and who her father was, she’d probably be inexperienced. Not that he had any idea, he just assumed. But even if she wasn’t, there were so many reasons why he wasn’t a man for a girl like her it wasn’t funny.

  Two years he’d been celibate and when he finally broke his drought, it should be with someone who could take his demands, because they were going to be many and varied. He didn’t want to hold back and he certainly didn’t want to go slow or gentle. He liked it rough and raw, and he liked to be in charge, and given the life that Callie had just escaped, he didn’t want to direct any of those demands on her.

  She could take them. You know she could.

  No. Just fucking no.

  She wasn’t right for him, she just wasn’t.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said roughly.

  Her eyes widened. “Like what?”

  Oh no, she knew what he was talking about. She may be inexperienced, but she wasn’t that inexperienced.

  He lifted his tumbler, took another sip. “You really need me to spell it out for you?”

  A delicate flush of color warmed her pale skin, but her gaze didn’t even flicker. “I was only thinking that maybe . . . you deserve some thanks for what you did for me.”

  Fuck. Was she serious? Did she really mean what he thought she meant?

  A sharp, edged kind of anger stabbed at him.

  He drained the rest of his bourbon and put it down on the table with a click. “What? You’re offering me sex in return for getting you out from underneath your father’s thumb? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Her flush deepened and her throat moved as she swallowed. “Why not? Would that be so bad?”

  Holy shit. That was what she was offering him.

  The anger inside him became sharper, along with yet another deep, aching pulse of desire. “Jesus.” He stared hard at her. “Just what the fuck kind of man do you think I am?”

  The flush in her cheeks burned brighter, but no less bright than the flame of anger that leapt in her gaze. “You really think this is about you?” she demanded. “Did you ever consider that this might actually be about me? About what I want? But no, of course not. Stupid little Callie, who doesn’t know what she wants. Who doesn’t know anything. Who needs a big strong man to tell her what to do.” She put her hands on the armrests of the seat, and pushed herself up and out of it abruptly. “Good little Callie, who’s spent four fucking years never asking for anything, never wanting anything. Never putting a foot out of line.” She moved toward where he sat, skirting the table. “I’ve been a prisoner for four fucking years. I’m not allowed to go out dancing. I’m not allowed to date. I’m not allowed to see people my father hasn’t approved of. I’m not allowed anything.”

  She stopped in front of him, her blue eyes glittering with rage, temper in every line of her body. “And you know what? I’m sick of not being allowed. I’m sick of trying not to want anything. I’m sick of trying not to ask for anything. I’m sick of being good and smiling and sucking it up, because that’s the only choice I have. And I’m sick of pretending none of that matters to me, because it does.” She shrugged her coat off, letting it fall onto the floor. “I know what I want, Jack.” Putting her hands on the armrests of his seat, she leaned forward over him, her hair falling around them in a golden curtain, the deep glow in her eyes inescapable. “And I think you want it too.”

  * * *

  Jack’s gaze was so intense she could barely hold it. But she made herself, looking down into a pure, clear emerald.

  He was sitting very still, his long, rangy body stretched out under where she was leaning. She’d been this close to him before, but not like this. Not when she was the one who was making it clear what she wanted.

  Anger smoldered and flickered inside her, a fire ready to ignite.

  She’d known what she wanted the moment the plane had lifted off the runway. The second it had climbed into the sky, leaving Boston and her father’s dark reach far behind it.

  A weight had fallen from her, a weight so heavy it felt like she could jump right out of the plane and soar alongside it. A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying until it was gone.

  She’d held Jack’s compelling gaze as they’d flown away from Boston, and as she looked at him sitting opposite, all tightly leashed power and coiled danger, the knowledge settled down inside her.

  She wanted him. And there were a whole bunch of reasons not to follow up on it, but she didn’t care about a single one of them.

  She’d never let herself want anything other than her music before, besides simply being free of her own damn life. But now she was free of it, and now there was something else she wanted. Him. So why not?

  Back there in the car she’d made a decision to go with him, and now she was here in the plane, making another decision. They were hers to make from now on, and her mistakes were her own to deal with.

  But she didn’t think Jack would be a mistake. Not at all.

  No, she’d never had sex before, but why not have it here? On a plane far above all her problems. With a man like this one, dark and difficult. Hot as hell and maybe hard to handle. But she’d been dying for the chance to handle him. To maybe fight him. He was so strong and she wanted to test that, see if she could take him. And now she was going to, oh yes, she would.

  “It’s not happening,” he said roughly. “Not now, not here. And definitely not because you’re simply fucking grateful.”

  Okay, now he’d said it like that, he did have a point. She shouldn’t have phrased it that way. “What I meant was, I want you. And I think you want me, too.” She paused, searching his scarred face, remembering the impact of those green eyes first meeting hers. “I think you wanted me the moment you saw me in the nightclub.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his expression absolutely unreadable.

  They were so close, the heat of his body making her tremble and burn. Were all men this hot? Or was it just him?

  A familiar aching, heavy tension gathered between them.

  Would he deny it? Had she gotten it wrong and he actually didn’t want her? She was inexperienced, no denying that. But no, he wasn’t unaffected by her, she was sure of it. The look in his eyes had burned when she’d kissed him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Princess. Not if you don’t want consequences . . .”

  Oh, but she wanted those consequences. She wanted them now.

  “Deny it if you can,” she murmured, staring down into all that fascinating green. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

  “You have no idea what I want.” His voice was even rougher, the harsh edge in it scraping across her nerve endings.

  She took a breath, the warm, spicy scent of him making her mouth water, hungry for something she couldn’t put a name to. “Then show me.”

  He gave a low, rough laugh that held no amusement whatsoever, but the look in his eyes glittered with heat. “Fuck, Princess. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I haven’t had a woman since I got injured. That’s two years. You sur
e you can handle that?”

  Shock echoed down her spine. Two years? He’d been celibate two years?

  A strange, shifting emotion settled in her that was part fear, part an intense, burning excitement. Fear of what a man like Jack would want after two years of no sex, because she had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything like the kinds of sex she’d read about, and yes, she thought she maybe could handle that, but . . . What if she couldn’t? Then again, that excitement was there too. This was all part of the challenge. The chance to test her strength against a man even more dangerous than her father was. And if she could handle Jack King . . . God, what couldn’t she handle after that?

  She stayed where she was, her hands on the armrests of his seat, leaning over him, her hair brushing his chest and shoulders. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a hurricane. Hard to do and not be torn apart by the power of the winds, but not impossible.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was a virgin and could he handle that? But then she thought better of it. He was such a protective guy, she’d probably never even get near him if he knew.

  And she wanted to get near him, yes, she really did.

  She dug her fingers into the butter-soft leather of the armrests. “I can handle it. I can handle anything.”

  Jack remained still, the look in his eyes a dark, glittering green. Then without any warning at all, he lifted a hand, shoved his fingers into her hair, and pulled her mouth down on his.

  It wasn’t anything like the kiss she’d given him before. It wasn’t really a kiss. It was a claiming. Open and hot, demanding everything, taking everything.

  His tongue was in her mouth, exploring her, tasting her, and the hand on the back of her head held her still, giving her no chance to pull away and get some distance. He wasn’t delicate, he wasn’t gentle, and she sensed he wasn’t holding back. He was raw and he was savage, taking charge of the kiss like he owned it and her along with it.

  Callie trembled, her fingers digging into the armrests harder to keep herself upright as he explored her deeper, with more intensity, the slick heat of his mouth almost overwhelming. He used his teeth on her bottom lip this time, taking tiny bites out of her as if she were a treat he was gorging himself on.

  He tasted like bourbon, rough and alcoholic, and far too strong for her. Far too intense. Far too everything. But she loved it.

  It felt as if her whole body was opening up, unfurling like a flower toward the sun, flooding with heat and desire and need. She wanted to lift her hands to his face, kiss him as savagely and as hungrily as he was kissing her, but before she could he let her go.

  She was shaking, her mouth feeling bruised, her knees weak, her heartbeat so loud it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it himself. Her skin felt too tight and there was a roaring in her ears, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from the look in his eyes.

  It was burning, searing. A green flame that stole the breath from her lungs and every thought from her head.

  “Still sure?” His voice was guttural and dark. “Because you better be. I’m not a man you can fuck around or play games with, not after two years. The moment you say ‘yes,’ it’s over. I will take you and I will take you hard. Understand?”

  You don’t, not really.

  No, but who cared? She wanted this. She’d wanted this from the moment she’d set eyes on him in the club. And she could handle him. She knew she could. This was her opportunity to prove what kind of woman she was, see exactly what she was made of underneath all that fear. Her chance to prove it with a man who would push her to the very limit.

  She wasn’t going to let this go. She was fucking going to take it.

  Callie met Jack’s darkening gaze, desire and fear and excitement all tangling together inside her. “I’m sure.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers, it was so thick and husky, and she realized she’d tensed, as if bracing herself for something.

  But all Jack said was, “Let me up.”

  Releasing the armrests, she straightened and took a step back to give him some room, excitement and trepidation beginning to build higher.

  He rose to his feet and skirted around the chair, making his way up to the front of the plane.

  She didn’t want to think about what he might be doing, so she stared at the floor, trying to get her breathing under control and calm the hell down.

  Are you really sure you know what you’re doing?

  No, of course she didn’t. But this wouldn’t mean anything if it didn’t scare her just a little bit.

  A minute later, Jack came back down the aisle, moving past her to sit in his seat again. “I told the flight attendant not to bother us until I say so.” He leaned back, heat glittering in his gaze as he surveyed her. “You’re mine now, Princess. Make no mistake, I’m going to make you scream. But you better be ready, because this isn’t going to be easy.”

  Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat thumping hard, but she lifted her chin and met him stare for stare. “What do you want me to do?”

  He tipped his head back against the seat, his gaze thin strips of emerald glittering from underneath thick inky lashes. “Strip.”

  She blinked at the rough order. “Here? Right now?”

  “You heard what I said.” His expression was hard, almost merciless. “I told you this wouldn’t be easy, so if you can’t handle it, you’d better say so right the fuck now.”

  Perhaps it was the slight taunt in his voice that did it, or perhaps it was that rough edge. A roughness she suspected wasn’t only because he was being harsh.

  Two years he’d been without a woman and she was the one who was going to break his drought. Even though he was pretty clear he thought it was a bad idea, he was going to do it anyway. That meant something.

  Does it have to mean something?

  Maybe not. Or at least, the person it mattered most to was her. That losing her virginity was with someone she had chosen. Someone she wanted. And that was true right now. Jack was the man she’d chosen and she’d chosen him because she wanted him.

  God, she wanted him.

  She lifted her hands to the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head without another thought. Then she kicked off her shoes and reached for the buttons on her jeans, unfastening them, shoving them down her legs and stepping out of them, leaving her standing there in only her panties and bra.

  Jack didn’t speak and he still hadn’t moved. He was watching her though, the heat of his gaze like a hot coal pressed directly onto her skin.

  “All of it, Princess,” he murmured.

  “I’m getting to that; don’t rush me.” Her hands were shaking as she reached behind her to unhook her bra, nervous despite the need inside her, but she managed to get it off, shivering as the cool air moved over her skin. Her nipples hardened, though she had no idea whether that was him and the way he was looking at her, or the air touching them.

  Her hands dropped to the waistband of her panties and she felt the wildness inside her begin to bite deep. It made her want to tantalize him, tease him, so she went slowly, easing the fabric down an inch at a time.

  Still he said nothing. But the flame in his eyes was burning higher, hotter, as she stepped naked out of the little bit of lace, his gaze sweeping over her like the backdraft from a forest fire, setting everything it touched alight.

  He wants you. . . .

  Her throat squeezed tight, her heartbeat like a triumph in her ears. Yes, there was no denying the heat in that look and if she needed more confirmation, she only had to glance down to his lap, where the long, thick ridge of his cock was pressing against the denim of his jeans.

  He made no attempt to hide it. In fact, as her gaze dropped, he spread his thighs wider, as if inviting her to look and, God help her, she did, goose bumps prickling everywhere, the heavy ache between her thighs getting more and more insistent.

  “Come here,” he ordered, his voice darker somehow and even rougher. “I want you sitting in my lap.”

  She sucked in a breat
h, the nerves returning. But this was the challenge she’d wanted and she couldn’t balk now.

  Callie took a step forward until she was right up close to his seat, then she turned around, put her hands on the armrests once more, and slowly lowered herself down until she was sitting where he’d told her to.

  Holy shit, he was hot. She should have expected it, yet still it was a shock, the fire of him burning through the denim of his jeans and into her. It made her shiver and so conscious of her own nakedness. Conscious that her bare butt was pressed against his zipper and that his jeans felt rough against the sensitive skin of her thighs. That she could feel the flex of hard muscle as she settled her weight on him and the other hardness, the thick ridge that pressed in a long, hot line against her ass.

  She swallowed, her mouth desperately dry. Her hands fluttered and she didn’t know what to do with them, so she put them on the armrests again.

  Okay, so what did she do now? What did he want from her?

  “Lean back,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her neck, right below her ear.

  She shivered yet again, but did as she was told, slowly leaning back until she could feel the hard, hot wall of his chest up against her spine. And not just there, either. She could feel him pressing down the entire length of her body.

  Her breathing got faster, harder, and she wanted to arch her back, press harder against him. She’d never done this before, never lain naked against a man while he was fully clothed, but suddenly her inexperience didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the need inside her, the wild heat that demanded an outlet.

  “Do something,” she said huskily. “Touch me.”

  “Oh no.” His voice was soft and velvet rough as his hands closed around her upper arms, making her freeze in place. “I haven’t finished talking yet.”

  The feel of his fingers on her bare flesh scorched her. “But I—”

  “Here’s the deal. I like it rough and I like to be in charge, so if you were thinking of calling the shots, you can think again.” His fingers pressed a little harder, a subtle reminder of his strength. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but with me there’s only one choice. You take my orders or you don’t get off, it’s as simple as that.”